summer in the city
On the 6 Parnassus and a man begins playing some good blues guitar, and it’s a bluesy morning. No, God, it’s a gorgeous morning. I look up again and he’s making weird hand gestures at no one, and then he exits the bus screaming, and I have the sudden and not unhappy thought that this is exactly how my ex-boyfriends will turn out: talented but raving, and I like San Francisco very much at this moment.
I want to be wrong about the ways I have reassessed the past, and right about everything I was sure I knew then.
Do you ever find yourself missing something you have no business to miss?
It happens when you leave too much magic in the memories: it was true love not laziness, a good career move, only for one summer, the only thing I could have done.
I hate to be wrong even in retrospect, especially that way.
But these days I’m cultivating a positive outlook, and I practice my smiling on the treadmill.
